“It is well!” said Prexaspes, bending low and touching the floor with his hands. “Now, if the Great King will permit, I will withdraw and will carry out our plan to deceive the populace into the belief that Bardya still lives in the flesh.”
The King nodded and turned away. Prexaspes, with a smirk of triumph on his face, left the room. Passing out into the hall, he was about to go to his room, when a servant approached and, after a low salutation, said, “Noble Prexaspes, my royal mistress, the Princess Athura, commands that you come to her waiting-room. She would speak with you.”
Prexaspes hesitated a moment. Then, drawing his breath sharply, as if bracing himself to a severe task, and assuming a cheerful demeanor, he followed the servant. Athura and her sister had not retired to their beds after the banquet. The departure of Bardya, followed by the fearful scene produced by the Magi, had rendered them sleepless. They had ordered their servants to watch for and report the return of Prexaspes to them. Prexaspes entered the room where they awaited him and bowed very low before them, touching the floor with his hands. Then he stood in respectful attitude with downcast eyes, awaiting their pleasure. The eyes of the maidens were red with weeping.
“Speak, false traitor! Was it you that struck Bardya and slew him?” exclaimed Athura, approaching him with clenched hands and blazing eyes.
Prexaspes raised his brows in well-simulated surprise.
“You wrong me greatly, most noble Princess! What mean you? No one has slain Bardya,” he answered.
“But I saw his spirit! He appeared at the close of the feast, and his head was cleft in twain as with a sword-stroke!”
Prexaspes smiled reassuringly, and drawing nearer to the Princess he whispered: “Believe it not, O most royal! That was but a delusion to convince the Great King that his will had been done. How could a spirit appear with cleft head? Spirits have no bodies that may be seen. But Patatheites was able to influence all there so that they believed they saw the spirit of Bardya, while the great Prince was riding swift as the wind to Rhages. Dry your tears! Bardya is beyond the reach of the King now, and in due time you will hear that he has arrived in his dominions. You saw no spirit. It was but a picture from the mind of the Magian chief.”
So sincere were his words and manner that Athura was reassured. She never had been superstitious or believed that the Magi were other than tricksters. The sternness left her countenance. She smiled graciously and extended her hand, which Prexaspes on bended knee respectfully kissed while his brilliant eyes glowed with admiration. Never, he thought at that moment, had he seen so beautiful a face or so perfect a form, never such a gracious and winning smile. For a moment his heart, used to the ways of the world, satiated with the pleasures of life, leaped within him; and he felt that to deserve that gracious smile he would have undone all that he had done and given up all that he had won. The music of her voice and the sweetness of her smile dwelt with him many a day thereafter, bringing to him the only regret and shame that he had ever known since childhood.
“Noble Prexaspes,” she said, “I recall my harsh words! But that was a horrible thing the great magician showed us; and it was well thought of to deceive the King! Surely my brother and I will reward you in days to come when all danger shall have been removed. As you have this night served Bardya, I promise on the word of an Achæmenian, which has never been broken, you will have a fitting and suitable reward. Farewell!”